A very lonely man
by janinePSA
Summary: A short story about the relationship of Mycroft and Sherlock and their childhood.And while nothing really happens there is a hint of incest in this story. So if this disturbs you, you have been warned.


**I do not own Sherlock, the new series, nor the original characters and would not dream of claiming I did.**

**A very lonely man**

"You are a very lonely man, Mr. Holmes." she had said.  
>Was that supposed to be news to you?<br>What a shallow little mind.

Of course you are lonely. It comes with ingenuity. There just isn't anyone who can come close. It is a question of statistics. How many people in the world of your calibre and how many mediocre ones to hide them? Of course you are lonely. Have been lonely from the very beginning.

You have been a lonely child. Quickly learning that other people are not your equals. Their minds were dull and blunt and since you could not have a satisfying exchange with them you turned to manipulating them instead. It seemed the best one could do with them.  
>And so it stayed for a long time.<p>

When your brother was born, you weren't in the least interested in that noisy smelly bundle residing in the cradle in mother's bedroom. But by the time Sherlock was old enough to speak his first words, your interest rapidly grew. That little boy was clever. Really clever. Could it be that you weren't alone any more?

And you were drawn to him. To his progress, his development. You had never been so fascinated by any human before.

He was brilliant.  
>His mind was sharp, polished, glittering.<br>Soaring like a silver bird and then raining down on you in a shower of white-hot sparks.

He was just a kid, but he was the only person you could enjoy a conversation with. The only one who could fascinate you. The only one you did not have to manipulate to stop yourself from being insultingly bored.

You had never loved someone before. Only felt that mild benevolence towards those who could not intellectually compete with you. You felt you owed them kindness because they were so hopelessly inferior.

But him you loved fiercely. He was a kindred soul. He complemented you. He was a treasure beyond imagination and you held him close.

So he did not grow up like you had, in isolation, alienated from everyone else by his intellect.  
>You were with him, every step, you guided him and he held you in such awe. Worshipped you. Everything he did, he did to win your approval and it was rare for him not to succeed.<p>

The big difference in your upbringing – that there was someone there for him, from the beginning, someone who understood, who matched his own abilities – made for a big difference in character.  
>While you had long ago shut down all emotionality he came to be a very affectionate child. Hugging and kissing you at every whim.<br>It was disturbing, but it was also … nice.  
>And it was yet another aspect that made your relationship with him so special, so very different from everyone else.<p>

While he was small people declared him cute and much more lively apparently than you had been at that age. More childlike, they said. Not so distanced, they said.

But when he grew older he was liked less and less. He met other people just the way he was, met them outright. He had not been dampened as you had been by non-understanding and non-responsiveness.  
>He had not been forced to hide his nature, to create a mask that people could relate to.<br>He was constantly turned away by others in fear or anger but it didn't bother him.  
>He came to you with everything. And he was never disappointed.<p>

He was 15 when that bond was torn apart. A bond that had been his lifeline ever since he could first voice his thoughts with that adorable baby-slur.

He had never stopped showing his affection for you and you couldn't help but feel that that didn't seem right. Not at his age.  
>But you couldn't bring yourself to stop him until you got to a point where there was no stopping without hurting him.<p>

You can't really describe what it felt like when his lips caressed yours. Soft and warm, sunlight rising from your stomach and flooding your whole body. There was no-one else you had an emotional connection with, no-one else who made you feel warm inside.  
>Just for a few seconds you contemplated letting go, just giving in, not thinking about it, just sinking into those delightful waters.<p>

Just for a few seconds.

Before you choked on the sudden realization of what was happening and pushed him so harshly he lost his balance and hit the floor in a manner that couldn't possibly have been painless.

But you could not come near him. You just stood there panting and managed „Don't do that!" and the words felt cold and bulky in your mouth like ice cubes and when those distressed blue eyes sought yours you had to get away from them, so you just fled the room.

But that wasn't far enough you recognized when he tried to approach you the following days, trying to speak to you no matter how much you blocked him, turned him away.

It broke you. It broke both of you.  
>The guilt never left you, that horrible guilt, tormenting your every moment.<br>And he, he seemed to suffer from rejection.  
>And there was nothing you could do about it, not without making it all worse.<p>

So you decided to leave home completely. It had been about time anyway.

You considered saying goodbye but it seemed too emotionally compromising, so you left a note.  
>„I'll be home for Christmas." it said. It was the 18th of February.<p>

He sent you a dozen letters. You never opened them. By September they stopped arriving.

When you visited home for Christmas he looked unhealthy: Pale, scrawny.  
>He seemed cool, distant, but you didn't miss how he shoved aunt Dora to the left to sit opposite you.<p>

There was nothing natural about the way he never lifted his eyes off his plate and you could practically feel his strained hope clawing you, begging you to speak to him.  
>So you asked him how school was. If the teachers at Horston were still giving him trouble.<p>

And at that he finally looked up. Just looked at you for a moment, blue eyes burning into you like frostbite until they slowly turned dull. He blinked and all emotion seemed wiped from his face. „I left Horston in March." he said with a strangely composed voice. „There was quite a commotion. I summarized it for you, but obviously you did not yet have an opportunity to read one of my letters."

„Oh, I'm sorry-" you stammered and he waved your apologies away.

„It's quite alright." he replied in generous tones. „I'm sure you had things of far greater importance occupying your attention."

In hindsight it was probably the last chance to make amends. If that day you had just hugged your brother, held him close, maybe you could have made things good between you. But you didn't.  
>You avoided him and you left early and it was the last time you saw him longing for your presence.<br>It was also the last time you saw his eyes wet.

The next time you met him he had changed.

He finally realized he was a very lonely person.

Just like you.


End file.
